


A Heart Alone

by JOBrien42



Series: Hearts Cycle [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s07e08 Undecideds, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JOBrien42/pseuds/JOBrien42
Summary: A follow up to "Fortress Around Your Heart"Josh is a stubborn man, and his choice to leave the White House has left him more alone than he's been in years.  And sometimes he doesn't see that he's only alone by choice.





	A Heart Alone

It’s still weird. I’d basically been at the Congressman’s hip since we first got to New Hampshire in January through the Convention. Now he’s off again on the campaign trail without me, with seven weeks to go, and I’m here at the home office trying to squeeze blood from the wallets of donors, finagle some sort of viable electoral math, and not tear out what’s left of my hair.

It’s still a hard step for me, letting him out of my sight. Yes, I know I have a micromanagement problem. But I am starting to trust Lou and my team. And I also know part of it is because the Congressman needs his new spokesperson with him, and I… I just can’t. Not if she’s there.

“I’m sure you’ll find her valuable,” I’d told Lou. Of course she would. How could she not? Donnatella Moss is one of the most capable, invaluable people I’ve ever met. She said she wants to get Matt Santos elected, and when she sets her mind on something, there’s almost nothing she can’t do.

That, I suppose, is a good thing. Maybe I should have asked that question when she’d first come to interview for the campaign. It wasn’t like we hadn’t needed the talent she was now bringing us. But there was no insulation back then, no way of shielding me from the heartbreak of seeing her every day. She’d asked to be my deputy, and I couldn’t do that, to work that closely with her. Not after everything that had happened since she left me.

It still bugs me, the nerve she had coming and asking to be my deputy! That after the past year we could just … work together again. As if nothing had happened.

I think of what Will Bailey had said to me, months ago in Nashua. “After Leo, you're the best mind in the party and you're gonna work for us. It's inevitable. When that day comes do you wanna be on the record trashing us so we can't hire you?” 

Well, I got the last laugh on that, even if it wasn’t funny and I didn’t much feel the mirth by the end of that convention. But hadn’t Will, the “good teacher” and the reason she got to be so skilled in politics, told her the same thing? Didn’t he tell her that when he shoved her in front of the cameras for Bingo Bob?

It made me the bad guy, unable to hire her. The look on her face, when I admitted just how much I missed her, like I’d slapped her. I tried to reach out, laid my heart bare for her, and she walked out on me. Again.

Less than two months. Win or lose, it was only a a matter of weeks now. I crack open another can of Red Bull and chug it down. I gotta focus on the job, get her out of my head. I grab the latest ad buy numbers and began to compare them to the electoral map on the board.

Without the normally reliable California, it seems impossible. Everything hinges on holding the Congressman’s home state of Texas and then sweeping Florida, Ohio and Pennsylvania. Those four, and a few others, like New York, Massachusetts, Michigan, _Wisconsin_ , and maybe - maybe - we could just barely eke out a win.

Now this kid gets shot by a Latino cop. A confluence of tragedy and stupidity and right before my candidate was to speak at an African-American church. 

Lester and I are on a conference call to the campaign bus with the Congressman, Lou, Edie and her. Lou wants to cancel. Edie suggests they go visit the family, and Santos is worried it would look exploitative.

“The mayor’s doing it,” I point out.

“Well the mayor’s got a relationship with the community,” Santos responds. “They won’t notice if he exploits it.”

“Yeah, but if he exploits and we don't, we look callous.” Is she defending me? I realize she’s just doing the same thing I was, backing up Edie. I glance at Lester and he’s nodding his head too.

I deflect to Lou, telling her to call Joe Farley, a guy I know at the mayor’s office in L.A., to see if we can coordinate with them on a visit. I tell them Lester is on his way.

“Are we making any statements?” she asks.

“All we say now is ‘this is a terrible situation. The Congressman hopes he can provide some support on his visit tomorrow.’”

Lou could’ve told her that. Hell, she probably knew it herself, she’d done enough spin for Russell. I don’t know if she’s humoring me or playing good little foot soldier, but I may have to draw her a chart. She reports to Lou. Lou reports to the Congressman. I need that separation.

Six hours later, I’ve gone through a couple more cans of Red Bull, an equal amount of coffee and eaten half of the sandwich that Ronna put on my desk a while ago. I’ve had calls from the chairs of eight different states demanding that we spend more, and asks from twelve congressional candidates and three senators plying for joint appearances (and four others telling me to keep Santos the hell away from them.) I’ve left a message for Annabeth to have Leo give me a call if he has time, but that doesn’t look like it’s gonna fit his schedule.

Ronna pokes her head in. “Lou’s on line two for you.”

What now? I pick it up. “Yeah?”

Lou tells me that Lester’s gotten to Denver, that Farley’s screwed us, and the mayor’s going to see the kid’s mother today. Lester is asking if I can get backup at the church tomorrow.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, and hang up. I scoop up my backpack and head out my door. “Ronna,” I say, “I’ve gotta run to the White House for a thing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I catch a cab to my old stomping grounds, stopping at a bakery en route for donuts. I’ve called Margaret to make sure I can get in without a hassle, and make my way to C.J.. It’s short notice, but Lester’s right - we need the big guns if we’re going to have any chance.

C.J. looks as exhausted as I feel, and is not a little snippy when I ask if the President can fly out for the campaign stop. But she says she’ll take it to him. Then she asks about Toby.

A pang of guilt radiates through me. I had meant to call, really. And C.J.’s right, she can’t do it. And her “I want to make sure he’s in one piece” hits me in the pit of my stomach. I don’t have a lot of people I’m close to. I’ve got dozens, if not hundreds, of acquaintances. But for nearly eight years I had a family, and it’s all gone to hell. I haven’t talked to Sam in God knows how long. Meetings with C.J. now seem transactional, always having to figure out the quid pro quo. And Toby - Toby’s going to jail for revealing state secrets and I haven’t said anything to him - not since the fight in his office. Yeah, he could’ve reached out too, before the shuttle thing. He never once congratulated me on Santos winning the nomination. I was never close with Will, especially after he left for Russell’s office. And hired her away from me.

All I’m really left with is Leo and my mother. I should give her a call.

As I leave I call Ronna and tell her I’m going to be a little later than I thought. I get in a cab and give the driver the address.

I get out and hit the button to Toby’s apartment. When he doesn’t buzz me in, I take advantage of someone exiting and slip inside. I go to his door and he reluctantly lets me in. He asks if I want a drink, making small talk, telling me I shouldn’t be there, that I could have been followed. My phone rings and I pull it out - I look at the number. Why is she calling? I silence it and ask him how he’s doing. He’s critical of the Congressman’s debate performance and I shoot back that we’re happy with it. The tension is thickening. My phone rings again - it’s Edie this time, but she can also go to Lou. That’s why she’s the damn Communications Director. I silence the phone again and apologize.

He tells me he isn’t cutting a deal, that he’s going to go to jail. I don’t know how to respond, desperately bringing up the op-ed calling him a hero. Like that’ll help Huck and Molly when their father’s in jail.

At least he’s getting time with them now. I used to wonder about that, being a father. I remember telling then Governor Bartlet that my father would’ve preferred grandchildren. I’m sure my mother still feels the same. I’m sorry that it’s never going to happen.

The phone goes off again. It’s Lou, and I have to answer. The first two calls were likely trying to soften me up. “Shoot,” I say, “Sorry, I have to take this.”

She’s upset the Congressman, putting too much pressure on him for his speech at the church tomorrow, but I assure her that he’ll get past it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over these months is the man is resilient. I give my OK to meeting with the dead kid’s parents, and ask her to call me later.

I turn back to Toby, letting him in on the troubles we’re having. He tells me that C.J.’s promise to take my request for a campaign stop to the President and see what he thinks is crap, just a deflection. 

He tells me that the President doesn’t think we can win, and it’s another gut shot.

I accuse him of being the bastard that he is, and after I tell him I’ll see him later, he gets in my face saying that isn’t going to happen. It’s the same as when we fought. He believes that I quit on him, that I am still quitting on him.

I walk out, feeling worse for the whole encounter. _Another for us_ I seem to hear. Another person I’ve let down. Another in the long line of Josh Lyman failures. I take out my phone and dial Margaret, trying to see if C.J. has talked to President Bartlet yet, hoping Toby is somehow wrong. She takes a message.

I get back to my office, still fuming over my meeting with Toby. I ask Ronna if they worked out “Meet the Press”. She confirms we did, and tells me that the White House is on the phone. I go in my office and punch line 3. It’s Margaret. The President can’t make it. I mumble platitudes, it was last minute, thanks for trying, and all I can think is that Toby was right and C.J. can’t bother to tell me herself. She has Margaret lie to me about it. 

Eight years with those people, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. No loyalty, no friendship. I hunker down and get back to work.

It’s after nine o’clock when Lou calls me with the update. Things went poorly at the Congressman’s visit to the Burke’s. I admit to her that I failed to get the President on board, and I can hear her sigh in disappointment. It has not been a banner day for the Santos-McGarry campaign. 

I spend a few hours going over the messages from the day, jotting down notes. I stare at the electoral map. I answer a few dozen e-mails, and I see one from her.

_Josh_

_We need to communicate with the state offices better. I recommend - and Lou agrees - that we set up daily conference calls by region. I can coordinate if you like._

_-Donna_

_P.S. - If I’m calling you, please know it’s something important for the campaign._

I’ve been trying - and failing - to control the reflexive guilt over declining the call as it was. What if she’d been hurt? But that’s not our relationship, not anymore. Not to mention she’s surrounded by the Congressman’s Secret Service detail. If anything had happened it would’ve been on the news. And it wasn’t like I could do anything about it anyhow.

I’ve been down that road before, and she kicked me out. Just when I finally knew how I felt, when I was ready to tell her, she’d sent me away so she could be with her Gaelic boy toy photographer, who didn’t have the brains to see how amazing she was and be the man she needed.

When she’d asked for me, before her surgery, I would’ve sworn she felt the same as I did. I was wrong. Maybe she had a crush on me at some point, but all we were ever going to be was friends, and even that died away last December.

I fire back a reply.

_Whatever Lou says is fine. Work it out with her._

I pause, and consider replying to the last bit. I don’t know how to, so I just hit send.

I go back to donor’s list of formerly reliable Democratic resources and try to formulate a strategy to reinvigorate our depleted war chest. Leo would have drained them dry by now. He’d have known the right buttons to press. He’d have been able to get the President on a damn plane to give his candidate cover.

My desk phone rings, breaking me from my self-recriminations. I glance at the clock - 12:30 A.M. - and wonder who the hell would be calling this late. I look at the number.

Damn.

It’s still ringing. I could ignore it, pretend I’m not there, but she just saw me reply to her e-mail. My hand moves involuntarily and picks up the receiver. “Hello?”

“What are you still doing in the office?” she asks me.

“Hello.”

“Go home, Josh,” she says.

“You aren’t the boss of me,” I snap, and regret it immediately.

“No,” she replies, exasperation in her voice. “But I want to win this, and it’s not going to happen if our campaign manager can’t concentrate for lack of sleep.”

I don’t respond. She has a point, sure. But it’s not like I’d be sleeping if I were home. 

“Josh?”

“I thought you said you’d only call if it was important to the campaign.”

“This is important. I - we need you at your best.”

_Yeah, don’t pretend that you care or anything, _I think.__

__There’s a gasp on the other end of the line. “How could you say - Josh, tell me you don’t mean that!”_ _

__Crap. In my exhaustion, I must have said it out loud. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m tired and punchy and it’s been a day. I didn’t mean anything.”_ _

__“Josh,” she said in a small voice, “I do care. I’m still your friend. You know you can talk to me, right?”_ _

__I freeze. I don’t say anything. I don’t even think anything, lest I slip up again. I just feel the dull ache of nine months of hell._ _

__“Josh, please talk to me.”_ _

__“I’m tired. I’m going to go.”_ _

__“Josh…”_ _

__“I’m going home - I’m doing what you asked! What more do you want from me?” I demand._ _

__“I want,” I hear the catch in her voice, and I know I’ve crossed a line. “I want to know you’re OK.”_ _

__“It was just something I said when I was feeling sorry for myself. Forget about it. You’ve got work to do getting the Congressman ready for church tomorrow.”_ _

__“OK, Josh,” she says. She doesn’t believe me. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you after the service.”_ _

__“Bye.” I say softly, and hang up the phone. I shut down the computer, grab my bag and head out for another restless night._ _

__I dream of her, lying on the operating table, fear - and something else - in her eyes. This time, I tell her that I love her and I’ll be waiting for her when they’re done fixing her. I dream of her, the day she quit, getting down on my knees begging her not to, that I can’t live without her. I dream of that night in Iowa, knocking on her door and telling her how much she means to me. I dream of her, and her name is on my lips when I awake in a cold sweat. It’s 5:30 in the morning, and I stumble out of bed._ _

__I gotta stop feeling sorry for myself. My candidate is going to be addressing a black church in the wake of a kid getting killed and try to bridge an impossible divide, and I’m worried because my poor little heart got broken? Leo would never let me live this down._ _

__I’d told Ronna she could have Sunday off - well, a half day, anyway, just coming in long enough for the follow up to the thing at the church, in case we need to react to that. Before that, I stop at Starbucks and order two coffees. I have something I need to do._ _

__I go to Toby’s, if for no other reason than to prove him wrong. I am not quitting on him. I accuse him of being the one who doesn’t believe in my candidate, because he can’t stand my success. He responds with a load of crap. Yeah, I had to convince my guy to run. No one else was doing anything and the alternatives were a stuffed shirt and amoral womanizer. And maybe I still have doubts about Matt Santos. I haven’t felt sure about anything in so long. But the Congressman has stepped up. He’s a good man, a man of integrity. He’ll make a good president, if I can just figure out how to get him there._ _

__It really doesn’t go any better than the previous day, but I showed him. He’s going to have to quit on me._ _

__Maybe, I think, that’s why she called last night. Maybe she wanted me to know that she hasn’t quit on me either._ _

__I just don’t know. It’s been so long and it’s hurt so much, and I just don’t know._ _

__I go to the office to get some work done._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I find my empathy growing for Josh, for the simple fact that he really does seem to love everyone more than he gets in return, whether it's C.J., Toby, Leo, and yes, even Donna. He's still an egotistical jerk, and he hides that tender heart of his too much. It's hard to see him in "Undecideds", where C.J. blows him off and Toby tells him he's thrown his career away on a mistake. He's talking directly to Donna in "The Wedding", so something cracks in the two weeks between "The Debate" and that.


End file.
